


Wanna Find Out?

by theangelofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:50:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelofletters/pseuds/theangelofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A curious girl picks up the Supernatural books and quickly falls in love with the boys - Sam in particular. So what will she do when two plaid-wearing FBI agents named Sam and Dean walk into her bookstore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kept having this thought about what Sam would do if he met a girl who was only KIND of interested in the Supernatural books instead of obsessed like Becky Rosen was. So this is what you get, lol.

Jacobs Books & More sits on the corner of Broadway and Fifth Avenue, less than five blocks from her small apartment. It is owned by Marcie Jacobs, a kind old lady in her late 70’s with gray hair and a warming smile, and her husband, Andrew Jacobs, a kind old man in his 80’s with large glasses and a baby blue apron he wears every day.

The two started the bookstore shortly after their oldest child moved out 30 years ago, and while Jacobs Books & More has had _some_ success, it’s no Barnes  & Noble. There’s not near the selection or prestige as some of the bigger stores, but it’s quiet and she has an arrangement with the Jacobs that allows her to stay and read and eat cookies whenever Mrs. Jacobs is in a baking mood.

It’s her favorite place in the city.

She loves the smell of books that she smells as soon as she enters the door, she loves the smell of Mrs. Jacobs’s famous cookies, and she loves the sight of Mr. Jacobs fixing the spines of some of the older books. She loves most everything about this place.

She’s made it a regular habit to spend her weekend afternoons curled up on one of the couches, usually reading a book recently purchased on Mrs. Jacobs’s recommendation.

Today, however, she comes to the store with no book and a broken heart. Her boyfriend has left her for her best friend and she seeks no solace with the classic romances that she knows is on the shelves. If anything, she needs something to keep her mind off the mess that waits at home.

Mrs. Jacobs takes one look at her and gives her the warm smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle. “I have just what you need, dear,” she says softly.

She pulls a book from a box and it looks almost brand-new. Mrs. Jacobs hands the book to her, “This just came in last week, and Andrew loved it so much that he bought out a copy of the entire series.”

“ _Supernatural_ by Carver Edlund?” she reads, grazing her fingers over the cover.

Mrs. Jacobs nods and smiles in that way all book lovers do when sharing a book they love. “Yes. It’s a thriller/horror series – exactly what you need, dear.”

She nods and opens the cover. Inside is praise for the series, calling it, “The scariest thing since Stephen King!”

“I think it is,” she says, smiling at Mrs. Jacobs.

“Just be careful with it though, they were expensive.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Expensive? This isn’t even that long of a book.”

“Well,” Mrs. Jacobs chuckles, “The cheaper ones had pictures of male models on the cover, and Andrew decided he was uncomfortable with that.” Mrs. Jacobs giggles, and she can’t help but join in with her.

So she picks her favorite chair in the small book store starts to read the first novel in the series, _A Woman In White_.

Within a few hours, the traffic outside has picked up and she has finished the book. She's already attached to Sam and Dean and is desperate to find out where their dad is or why Jessica died like their mother.

She stares at it in her hand for a few seconds before opening the back cover to find the name of the second book. She finds the shelf that Mr. Jacobs had put the series on and skates her fingers over the spines, stopping with the final one, _No Rest for the Wicked_. She smiles when she realizes how many books she has to read before finding out the end of Sam and Dean’s story. She quickly finds _Wendigo_ and heads back to her favorite chair.

It doesn’t take her long to read the series and it quickly becomes her favorite. She doesn’t sleep well after the books like _Bloody Mary_ and _Asylum_ but she quickly gets over it and laughs at the brothers going back and forth, all the inside jokes between them. She cries when Sam has to kill Madison in _Heart_ , Dean’s wish!verse in _What Is And What Should Never Be,_ and again when Sam dies and Dean makes a deal in _All Hell Breaks Loose_. She secretly likes Bela and squints in frustration every time one of the boys makes a move to trust Ruby.

She even starts picking up on some of the things the boys do and catches herself eating a greasy cheeseburger and pie on more than one occasion. And, she never tells anyone, but she even researches some deaths in her area that look a little supernatural.

After a month of reading the Supernatural series, she walks to the shop with _Time is on My Side_ in her hand. She pauses outside Jacobs Books  & More and looks at the apartment building across the street. Police cars and ambulances are parked on the sidewalk and people are gathered around to see what’s going on. She debates going over with them, but she’s much more interested in getting the next book.

She smiles at Mrs. Jacobs as she walks in and heads straight for the familiar shelf that houses the Supernatural books. She picks up _No Rest for the Wicked_ with a little hesitation. She’s not entirely sure that she’s ready for Sam and Dean’s adventures to end, but she’s _dying_ to know if Ruby is as good as she claims and if Dean actually goes to Hell.

“What do you think?” Mrs. Jacobs asks from behind the desk.

“About what?” she breathes. “They’re terrific.”

Mrs. Jacobs nods, “I figured you’d like them. Now, the _real_ question. Sam or Dean?”

She giggles and looks at the older woman, “Should you even be asking me that?” she nods towards Mr. Jacobs.

“Oh, dear! They’re fictional! Andrew doesn’t even care.”

A faint blush creeps to her face, “Fine. I’m a Sam girl.”

Mrs. Jacobs laughs, “I had a feeling you would be.”

“Do you know what happened over there?” she says, pointing across the street.

Mrs. Jacobs frowns, “Someone was murdered, I think.”

“Oh my!” she gasps. “How?”

Mrs. Jacobs shrugs, “No idea. Now go read.” She points to the book, “This one’s incredible.”

She nods and turns on her heel, determined to get a big chunk of the final book read before she leaves the shop.

Just as she settles into her chair, the bell jingles above the door to let her know that someone has entered the tiny shop. She waits for the gentle strides of Mr. or Mrs. Jacobs, but neither come to the front desk, and she can hear a man calling for the owner. After a few seconds, she gets annoyed with the man’s frustrated tone and marks her page with a bookmark. She sits it down on the chair before heading to the front of the store, determined to find Mrs. Jacobs and give this customer a piece of her mind for being so rude.

As she walks between the shelves, she notices two men standing in front of the desk. One of the men is tall – very tall. He wears a plaid shirt that looks like it belongs in ’78 and stretches tautly over his thick arm muscles. He has long, dark hair that is just past his ears. He hears her walk up and smiles at her. It’s a warm smile and she can see a bit of a sparkle in his light hazel eyes.

The other is a little shorter, but still at least six inches taller than she is. She doesn’t notice much else except that he’s dressed similar to the other man and he doesn’t smile at her – in fact, he looks a little annoyed.

“Do you work here?” the taller one asks.

She shakes her head and smiles for a few seconds before realizing she’s actually supposed to answer. “Um - no, but I’m here enough that I should put in an application.”

The tall man chuckles and he and the other man pull out badges that say FBI on them.

“Agents, huh?” she comments. “Casual Friday?”

The tall one chuckles at her joke. “It is, actually,” he teases. “Can you tell me where the owners are?”

She shakes her head, “Mrs. Jacobs was here a few minutes ago…”

The shorter one purses his lips and looks down at his watch. She narrows her eyes at him, almost wanting to glare at him for his rudeness. But the two agents may have something important to ask Mrs. Jacobs about the murder across the street, so she bites back her smart remark.

“Do you have a message I can give them or –“ the shorter one turns his glare on her and it makes her start to stutter over her words. “O-o-or I can try to – uh – find them?”

The shorter one opens his mouth to speak, but the tall one beats him to it. “Uh, if I left my number, would you ask them to call me?”

She nods and starts fumbling for a piece of paper and a pen. Her face flushes when she accidentally knocks over a cup full of pens. She’s mortified when the taller man bends over to help her pick them up. Her entire body tenses when his hand brushes hers.

She feels a warm hand on her shoulder and looks up to see Mrs. Jacobs. “Who are these men, dear?”

She shrugs, “They said they need to talk to you or Mr. Jacobs.”

Mrs. Jacobs extends a hand, “Can I help you?”

The shorter one exchanges a look with the taller one before stepping off with Mrs. Jacobs. She should probably listen in on the conversation, but she just looks at her feet and hopes the taller man speaks to her.

“Uhhh,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, we – we, uh…”

She giggles at his self-consciousness. “What’s your name?”

“Sam,” he sighs with relief.

Her mouth curls into a smile and she chuckles.

“What?” Sam asks. “Is that your name or something?”

She shakes her head and tells him her name, “Sam is the name of a character in a book I’m reading.”

“Is his last name Gamgee? Or I-Am?” Sam laughs.

She giggles, “Considering he’s not eating Green Eggs & Ham or a hobbit, I’d have to say neither.”

“What’s the character’s last name?” he asks, genuine interest spiking his features. She wonders if he likes books as much as he does and makes a mental note to ask him what his favorite is before he leaves.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think Edlund gives one,” she shrugs, reaching behind the desk for one of the Supernatural books to thumb through, just to check.

“Wha-what did you say?”

She looks up to see the color has drained from Sam’s face and he looks as if he needs to brace himself against something. Her face lights up with the possibility that Supernatural is Sam’s favorite series too. “Edlund? Like Carver Edlund?”

Sam’s eyes widen, “You… you read the Supernatural books?”

She nods with excitement. So Sam _has_ read the series. Her mind bubbles with questions to ask him, anything from how much he and Sam are alike to his favorite line or case, but she suddenly can’t speak – she just stares at Sam with a wide smile.

“Do you?”

She shakes the idiot out of her face and nods, “Mrs. Jacobs recommended it, so I said I’d give it a try, I like them.”

Sam starts to shake his head and rub his nose as the smaller man comes back with Mrs. Jacobs. For some reason, Sam looks more upset than she thought a fellow Supernatural fan would.

“Well, Sammy, I think we covered everything we need.”

“Wa-wait,” Sam stammers, pointing at her.

As the other man faces her, she takes in his appearance. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket with the back collar flipped up on his neck and she thinks she sees a hint of blue flannel covering a plain black teeshirt.

But that’s not what catches her eye.

It’s the dirty blonde hair, the bright green eyes, the general scowl, the thick purple circles under his eyes, and the … the gold amulet that hangs from his neck.

She narrows her eyes at him and looks back at Sam. “Is he… is this… _Dean_?”

The shorter man jolts whenever she says his name and it makes her jump back in surprise. “How did you … ?”

But she ignores him, she turns back to Sam, pointing at him. “You’re Sam, and he’s Dean…”

“Dean, I think you need to wait outside,” Sam says, looking at his..brother.

It’s weird for her to even think. That the _fictional_ characters she’s been reading about (and semi-falling in love with) are _here_ , _real_ …

Dean cuts her a weird look, but he follows his brother’s direction and walks outside. Her eyes follow him and widen even further in surprise when he opens the door to a Chevy Impala.

“Is that a…?”

“’67,” Sam confirms. He pauses for a second, “So you like the books?”

She nods, “I just started them a few weeks ago. It’s an interesting concept. Monsters actually _existing_ , people that kill monsters professionally…”

Sam nods, “So you don’t think any of it’s real?”

She tilts her head at him, “It’s fiction… Right? You guys are cosplayers?”

A grin creeps to Sam’s face, “Would we be here, investigating the murder that happened across the street if we were?”

She copies Sam’s smile and leans in closer to him, across the desk, “Are you the Sam that died and was brought back by his brother's demon deal? The Dean that probably went to Hell? Are you the _real_ Sam and Dean?”

Sam grins, “Do you wanna find out?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay there was alot of interest in a part two. it's not very long, but here you go :)

She runs her hands over the backseat of the Impala, admiring the pristine leather and upholstery. She smiles with every detail she catches – just like Carver painted it in the books. Her mind reels with the possibility that this is all _real_ , so she studies every detail and commits it to memory, just in case she _is_ dreaming.

Sam sits in the shotgun seat, looking over a notebook and comparing it to a map. Every few seconds, she catches him looking back at her and blushing as he tears his gaze back to the map in his lap. Other than the casual small talk and confirming that he and his brother really _are_ Sam and Dean, neither has said much on their drive to take her home from the bookstore.

Dean waits in line inside the diner and she can see him getting more and more impatient for his burger with every passing second. She can see his grumpy stare through the glass and it makes her chuckle – Carver got him right too, all the way down to the leather jacket with the collar turned up.

“So I see Dean made it back from Hell,” she observes.

Sam smiles, showing her all of his teeth, putting the notebook and map on the dash. “Yep.”

“How come that wasn’t a book? I was heartbroken when Dean went to Hell.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Sam chuckles. “But, we ended up tracking down Chuck and we told him if he wrote another book, we’d kill him.”

“Who’s Chuck?” she asks, brow furrowing.

“The – uh, Carver Edlund is a pen name,” Sam explains, turning farther in his seat.

She nods, that makes sense. She looks to make sure Dean can’t see her lean in closer to Sam and prop herself on the back of the front seat. “So how’d he break out of jail?”

Sam smiles a mischievous smile, “You’re not gonna believe this.”

“I just found out my favorite fictional character is actually a real person,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Try me.”

Sam gives her a wide smile and she can see the green of his eyes sparkle. He looks like he’s revealing a big secret, but he simply says, “Angels.”

She snorts and raises her eyebrows, “Angels? Those aren’t real.”

Sam chuckles, “You believe that hunters, that supernatural monsters, than _Dean and I_ are real, but you won’t believe angers?”

“Yeah, okay,” she gives him a smile. “I guess you’re right… so what? the angels got together and decided to get his ass out of the fire?”

Sam nods, “Yep. An angel named Castiel pulled him out.”

“Why?” she asks, curiosity peaking. “I thought soul-contracts were kind of a done-deal.”

Sam smiles wider and looks behind him to make sure Dean isn’t watching them. he leans in a little close, “To stop the apocalypse.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Which, I’m assuming he did, since the world hasn’t ended and whatnot.”

“Yet,” Sam clarifies, reaching back on the dash for his papers and maps.

“Yet?”

“That’s right,” Sam reiterates.

Her brow furrows, “Wait a second… so the apocalypse… is still… going _on_?”

Sam nods and hands her a newspaper. “Notice those typhoons and earthquakes going on everywhere? Random temperature drops?”

She looks away from Sam, her eyes widening for a second at the headline before looking back at him, “ _Typhoon Kills Thousands in Japan?_ You mean… it’s… this…”

Sam just nods, he knows how crazy he sounds, he must know how much this is to take in. “Lucifer broke free from his cage and now we’ve gotta kill him before he takes over and kills everyone.”

She scoffs again, going silent as she reads the story on the paper. This is so much more than she imagined, so much more than she could comprehend. This was a _book_ series, for crying out loud.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Sam quietly says.

She just shakes her head and looks up toward the diner. “How’d he break free?” she quietly whispers, still watching Dean.

She sees Sam flinch out of the corner of her eye, “It’s a long story.”

She just nods and figures Sam will tell her if he wants to. “Well.”

“Well?”

She sighs, “Can you do it? Can you kill the devil?”

Sam shrugs, “Hope so.”

“Wait,” she pauses, narrowing her eyes. “But what about Armageddon? Michael the archangel leading the battle against Lucifer?”

As she finishes her question, Dean walks up with his burger in hand, a grumpy look on his face. He groans, giving Sam a pointed glare before starting up the Impala. _Photograph_ by Def Leppard fills the speakers, still turned up high from where Dean had it on the way to the diner to drown out any conversation. He reaches over and turns down the radio as he takes a sip of his drink.

Sam’s smile falls for a second, “Armageddon? That’s where it gets tricky.”

“Tricky? Why? Does Michael not want the job?”

Dean scoffs in the front seat, “Somethin’ like that.” He pulls out his burger and takes a monsterous bite. She watches him in awe for a few seconds before Sam clears his throat and steals her attention.

He puts his arm on the back of the Impala’s seat and turns to face her, “Look, it’s like this: angels are like demons – they can’t walk around on earth by themselves.”

“They have to have a meat suit,” she offers.

“Exactly,” Sam praises.

“So Michael and Lucifer can’t find a meat suit or what?”

Dean pauses, his hand on the gearshift, and turns around in his seat to face her too. “No, Michael’s found his vessel, so has Lucifer.”

“They’ve found their vessels,” Sam explains, “but unlike demons, they have to have the vessel’s consent before taking the body.”

She nods, that makes sense, with angels being the good guys and all.

“Why don’t they just convince them and then fight to the finish?” she impatiently asks.

“Because,” Dean snaps, “the battle’s gonna kill half the planet, and the _vessels_ are trying to solve this damn problem without any bloodshed.”

She stays silent for a second, processing the words. Sam had sad that the two of them were trying to _kill_ Lucifer… they were trying to stop the bloodshed.

“Wait… You two are the vessels?” she spits out, disbelief echoing in her tone. “Of Lucifer, the devil and Michael, the archangel?”

Dean nods, “Friggin’ genius. Now, you got any clues on how we beat this thing, feel free to share. Otherwise, why don’t you go grab another book and let us save the world?”

“Dean!” Sam scolds. “That’s enough!”

Dean turns to his brother, “No, Sam. _this_ ,” he points to her, “is enough.”

“Excuse me?” she barks, narrowing her own eyes.

Dean rolls his eyes, “You know, Sammy, I’m all about taking whatever help we can get and I agree that you need to get laid, but pulling a groupie out of a bookstore? Are you kidding, man?”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Sam barks back.

Dean gives a head shake, “I’ve only got one thing on my mind, Sammy. You know that.”

“I know that, Dean!” Sam snaps back. “And if you recall, we don’t have _any_ idea where the Colt is!”

Her eyes widened, “The Colt? You’re looking for the Colt? You think that will kill Lucifer?”

Sam turns to look at her and sighs, “It’s supposed to be able to kill _anything_.”

“Thought you said you were a _fan_ ,” Dean snarks.

She rolls her eyes, “I remember reading about it.”

“Except now,” Dean says, going back to shift the Impala in gear, “we have no idea what the mooks have done with it. _If_ it’s even still in one piece.”

Her eyes narrow as Dean pulls the car into the busy street, “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugs, “Lilith probably gave it to demons and they’ve probably melted it down and destroyed it by now.”

“No she didn’t,” she says.

“Exactly,” Sam agrees. “I don’t think they did either.”

“No,” she affirms. “Really? Lilith never had it.”

Sam turns in his seat and Dean glares at her in the rearview mirror, “What do you mean?”

“Lilith never had the gun, Bela didn’t give it to _her_ ,” she answers.

Dean punches the brakes on the Impala, sending her flying toward the front seat. Sam lets out a string of curses toward his brother as he turns and gives him a glare.

“What the hell happened to it?” Dean growls.

“B-Bela, she – she gave it to Lilith’s – uh – her right hand man.”

Dean gives Sam a look before looking back at her, “Who?”

“I – I think his name was Crowley? He’s a demon and I – I think they were lovers.”

“How do you know that?” Sam asks.

She shrugs, “It was in the books.”

For the first time since she got in the car, Dean’s face breaks into a huge smile. He looks at his brother, “You know, Sammy, that sounds like a lead to me.

Sam rolls his eyes and smiles as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll call Bobby.”

Dean looks up in the rearview mirror, “Alright, sweetheart. You got a couple of options.”

“Let’s hear’em.”

“Option one: Sammy and I can take you back to your bookstore or apartment and call you when it’s all over.”

She crinkles her nose at Dean in the mirror and he chuckles. “Or?”

“Option two: you come back to Bobby’s with us and you find out what hunting’s _really_ like.”

She smiles and pretends to be thinking hard.

“Just gonna let you know, sweetheart, I’ve read and lived those books. The danger’s real.”

Sam turns and looks at her over his shoulder, phone in hand. “What’s it gonna be? You wanna find out?”


End file.
